"I like it," Vin Tanner said while he sat astride his horse Peso as they moved along the trail beside his companion. "You don't like it much," he added as he tore his eyes from the striking southwestern landscapes and turned to his friend and fellow lawman.
The man beside him steered his horse to the right in order to avoid a large rock that, through monsoon rains and the unavoidable erosion, and persistent use of the road from Four Corners to Apache Crossing and, as in this instance, back again, forced its prominence on the well-used thoroughfare.
"Ah admit that mah first thought upon setting sight on this region was, to say the least … not kind," Ezra Standish replied with a wry grin.
"What time o' year did ya get here?" the former bounty hunter asked as he leaned to the left to grab an especially tall blade of grass. He broke off the bottom part and put the rest in his mouth as he waited for a response, the golden feather blades on the tip moving in rhythm with the horse's gait.
"November. The temperatures were a blessed relief after a summah and early autumn in New Orleans. By that time of yeah, everything here had turned mostly brown. Nothin' like this yeah," the gambler noted.
"Yep. This year was special," Vin agreed.
"We are well into mah fifth yeah in this region of the country and this is the first one Ah can say that the green outshines the brown, even this far into the winter."
"Good snow, good melt, good spring and summer rain, and so far, more good snow," Vin said. "All adds up to some pretty scenery." A crack of thunder marred the peaceful high desert day. Ezra looked south, but Vin turned to look back east. "Aw, hell!" Ezra turned Chaucer around and witnessed what caused the unusual exclamation from the generally even-tempered Texan.
"Hell. Is it worth tryin' for Missus Wells' place?"
Vin thought for a moment, looking north, out of their way but where he knew a shack existed. The dark cloud that ominously followed them and was announced by the unusual winter thunder forewarned of heavy rain. The mud that would be caused by any extended rain could make it nearly impossible to come down from the mount upon which the shack had been built many years before. There was no guarantee that a heavy rain wouldn't just wash the shack and any occupants down said hill.
"We're gonna have ta try."
The two lawmen took off swiftly, giving the horses their head in the immediate, level section of road. They knew that about halfway to Nettie's there was a precarious stretch of the road, rocky and narrow and with a severe drop-off with a bouldered descent to the river.
The thunder continued, more menacing, the clouds turning darker behind them, the sun's rays long gone, daylight only known by the remaining gray and because they knew what time they had begun their journey. Chaucer and Peso kept a steady pace on the familiar road, with both horses anticipating the area of most concern. Raindrops started as men and beasts navigated the difficult section of road in the dark gray and wet of the storm. By the time they made it through the hardest part of their journey, the skies truly opened upon the men, torrential rains preventing them from making significant progress of any kind. It also prevented them from heading in any direction except for the one they knew would provide some protection, despite the fact that they could not estimate when they might reach the safety of Nettie Wells' ranch.
"'Nother hour, Ez!" Vin called to his friend. The tracker noted the quick glance of acknowledgement from his companion in his attempt to keep his face out of the brutal force of the rain.
Another hour and a half passed as their pace was slowed by sheets of rain, much colder than when it started, slapping the horsemen and their mounts hard in the stiff winds. They were ten minutes out from Nettie's when a loud snap from above, barely heard by the gambler and not at all heard by the tracker, had a large branch from a giant cottonwood fall toward the former buffalo hunter.
"Vin!" Ezra yelled as he witnessed the looming disaster. The tracker heard the warning and, understanding the likely cause of his partner's distress call, veered right to the open field and away from the large stands of cottonwoods. Peso slipped on the muddy road and jostled his rider, who fell in a frightful flip, his back, hip and leg all taking a beating upon landing.
Ezra stopped Chaucer close to his downed friend. As he dismounted, he, like Peso, slipped on the muddy road and fell, his clothes now "J.D." brown from top to bottom, just like the legs and chest of their horses. His head banged on something hard during the fall, his vision shifting from shooting stars to blackness and finally resolving to a blurry visual of Chaucer standing protectively over him.
"Vin?" Ezra asked as he turned and crawled over to the tracker. The rain was relentless, and now that they weren't wallowing in the mud as Ezra had been, the rain finally did one good thing as it did its best to cleanse them of the worst of it.
"'m all right," the long-haired man said. Vin's hat was doing little to keep the rain from his wavy locks, now plastered to his cheeks, neck and down his back, evidence of any curls nonexistent.
"You're certain?" the card sharp asked as he felt his head where he hit it. He pulled his hand away as he reached for his friend, not noticing the blood on his fingers that the rain quickly washed away.
"Yeah," Vin grumbled. As he tried to stand up in the slippery mud, he yelled in pain and settled back into the water-soaked path. "Hell," he added.
"What is it?" Ezra asked. Though he wore his typical flashy clothing, the professional poker player looked anything but what he took such great care to project.
"M'back," the former bounty hunter said through gritted teeth.
Ezra looked around to gauge how far they were from the Wells homestead.
"Maybe you should not move … "
"Jest need help gettin' up, Ezra."
"Vin, Nathan would not … "
"We ain't got shelter out here. Nate wouldn't say either of us should spend more time in this."
Ezra didn't like it, but he was tired and sore and a little dizzy. "Stay put while Ah collect Peso. There is no point in you walking to him when he can come to you."
"Thanks."
Vin waited impatiently as Ezra gathered their horses. When he heard them approach just a few minutes later, he watched as the Southerner placed Chaucer beside him rather than Peso.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
Ezra opened his mouth to answer just as a mighty gust of wind picked up. He swallowed some water, coughed at the unexpected gulp from the driving, pouring rain, then tried again, coughing some more as he said, "Peso has an injury. He is favoring his left front leg. His leg feels warm at the cannon. Let us get you up on Chaucer and we will pony Peso behind."
"Yer gonna walk?" Vin asked as Ezra helped him to a standing position.
"It is not far now," the gambler grunted as he helped Vin into the saddle.
"It ain't right," the tracker said.
"Can you walk?" Ezra asked.
Vin looked away, then turned to look down from the saddle at his fellow lawman. Ezra appeared pretty done in himself, but in this weather with the road only getting worse, they couldn't afford to have two lame horses.
"No," Vin admitted.
"Then let us proceed and get out of this horrid weather."
What both men thought would be just another ten or fifteen minutes easily doubled as Ezra kept Chaucer to a pace that Peso could manage. As they were within about a hundred feet of Nettie Wells' house, young Casey Wells came bounding down the steps, a poncho and several layers of scarf and hat protecting her. Nettie waited under the relative cover of her porch, wearing her winter coat, a hat and a shawl, ready should she need to venture out to help.
"What happened?" Casey asked as she took possession of Peso. Vin waited for Ezra to answer, but his head was down as he walked unsteadily ahead. It seemed unlikely that the former con man even knew he no longer had Peso's reins in his hand.
"'s like it looks. Got caught in the storm," Vin answered.
"What about Peso?" she asked.
"Not sure. Got hurt," the former buffalo hunter said. He had become somewhat more verbose now that he was more comfortable with reading and writing his own language, but today he would stick to a few words if it meant he could get down from Ezra's fine horse and get them both out of the weather. And their horses.
"I'll check on him," the young, accomplished horsewoman said. Casey watched as Ezra kept walking as though he was heading to Four Corners. "Hey, where ya goin'?" she asked the handsome man, even under all of the muck. He did not answer as he walked, clearly not intending to stop at Nettie's barn, or Nettie's house.
"Ezra!" Vin called. Ezra stopped, turned and looked up at the bedraggled Texan.
"Yes."
"We're here."
Ezra looked to his right and at the house. He saw the old rancher looking toward them with concern. "So we are," the fancy dresser said, today's ensemble no longer looking so kempt. He kept Chaucer's reins and turned for the steps. Nettie walked to the far end of her porch.
"Bring 'im over here, Fancy Man." There was no railing on that end of the porch. Ezra wondered foggily if that was purposeful or a repair that Vin had not got to yet. Vin Tanner had been busy at Nettie Wells' place this last year.
"Chaucer, be still," the Southerner said as he crossed in front of his horse to get between Vin and the porch. He stood there doing nothing. He swiped the rain from his face, then felt the growing lump on the side of his head. Chaucer remained still, per Ezra's request.
"Come on down, Vin," Nettie said as she stood looking up at the tracker and then down at the card player. "Mr. Standish, jest be ready in case he falls, I can steady 'im from here."
Ezra stood and watched, hoping that he wouldn't be required to assist. He was barely keeping his feet as it was. He grinned to himself as he realized that he actually preferred the "Fancy Man" appellation to the more formal Mr. Standish. Mr. Standish wasn't properly meant for him, anyway.
"I've got ya," Nettie said. Chaucer remained impressively calm through the entire maneuver of getting the tracker off of the horse and steadied in Nettie Wells' arms. Ezra's shoulder came in handy for Vin's hand as he supported himself, and Ezra managed to remain standing through it all. "All right, Fancy Man. Come on in," the old rancher called through the driving rain.
"Mah horse," he said as he headed toward the barn with his cherished steed.
"I'll get 'im, Ezra," Casey said. "I put Peso up in a stall. I'll take care of Chaucer, too," she said loudly over the banging of rain on Nettie's roof and everything else getting battered by the fierce rainfall.
"Ah will assist," Ezra said, though he knew there was a distinct possibility of him not even making it to the barn.
"No ya won't, Ezra Standish. Git yer behind up these steps and in this house," Nettie ordered. Ezra frowned. After years of abiding what his mother told him, as well as learning, reluctantly, to follow orders during the war, not to mention working with the likes of Chris Larabee, following an order was, despite what some would say about him, instinctual. It was no different this day. The added reward of getting out of this weather and the possibility of warmth and drying out made this an easy order to obey, but apparently, he was taking longer than he should to let everyone know of his decision. "You best not make me come out there in the rain and git ya, boy," Nettie warned.
Ezra handed the reins to Casey, tipped his hat, plodded up the stairs and stopped in front of the old woman. "Ah would nevah think to force a gentle lady such as yourself out into this weathah."
"Hush. Come on in," she said, preceding him into her house.
Ezra stood just inside the threshold as he watched the woman stoke the fire that he could feel from where he stopped. As severe as the rainstorm was, the sudden drop in temperature out there was equally concerning. He wondered if the women had enough cut wood to get them through, though both Nettie and Casey were infinitely practical people. Ezra shook his head, knowing he was silly for worrying about that. The longer he stood in the doorway, the more he felt the cold seeping into his bones against his backside. He trembled.
"Come on in and git out o' those wet clothes," Nettie said as she started to help Vin remove his heavy, soaked coat. Ezra stepped further toward the wood stove, seeking warmth. "It ain't gonna help much if ya stay in that wet coat," Nettie said as she saw him pause a few steps inside the door. "Shut that door," she ordered. Ezra turned and followed that order, but remained in his coat. Nettie kept working on Vin and reminded Ezra, "Coat!". Unnoticed by Nettie, but clearly observed by Vin, Ezra's eyes rolled to the back of his head and he dropped, boneless, to the floor.
"Ezra!" Vin yelled as he tried to rise from the chair Nettie had forced him into, the one protected by a thick blanket and several towels.
"Stay put. Take off what ya can." She stared at him. "All that ya can." Then she turned to the prostrate man on her floor.
"What can I do to help?" Casey asked as she returned from the newly-expanded barn. Finished in the fall, the barn was nearly double in size, which allowed for ease of checking the two horses over and giving each a spot to remain out of the rain. The previous spring, Vin and Josiah each led a team of four men to place four run-in sheds across Nettie's land, allowing the horses that preferred more time to run the ability to remain out overnight yet still have shelter from rain, heat and flies. No doubt some horses were using them at this very moment.
"Git up to the attic and grab two sets of clothes from my old trunk. The one with your Uncle Jed's things."
"What about him?" she asked worriedly, indicating Ezra, unconscious not far from the front door. The gambler had fallen farther away from the roaring fire than he would have liked, but the two wool blankets Nettie had placed over him would do the trick until Casey returned and the two of them could move him closer to the heat.
"I'll make him a spot by the fire and we'll move 'im when ya get back."
"Do you need anything else from up there?"
"Grab another blanket or two."
"Be right back, Aunt Nettie," Casey said as she temporarily removed one of the kitchen lanterns.
"Nettie?" Vin asked worriedly.
"I ain't had a chance to look at 'im close. He's breathin' good, color's good. Let's get you taken care of and then I'll start in on Mr. Fancy Pants."
From the floor, Ezra spoke up. "Ah will nevah unduhstand the d…derision toward lookin' ones b…best and presentin' oneself approp'rately."
"Ain't derision, Fancy Man. It's affection." Nettie looked to Vin. "Do not move." To Ezra, she asked, "How're you doin'?"
The gambler closed his eyes, seeming to give himself a silent once-over. He placed his fingers and thumb on his nose and rubbed lightly. "Ah have a blisterin' headache. Ah b'lieve Ah hit mah head." Vin snorted a laugh.
Nettie turned to Vin and said sharply, "Ain't nothin' amusin' about this, Vin."
"Sorry Miss Nettie," the tracker immediately said, knowing she was right.
"Do not fret, M…Missus Wells. V…Vin is simply expressin' th…the irony that Ah w…would hit mah h…head. Again."
"It still ain't funny. It's good that yer managin' a regular conversation," Nettie said as she felt the trembling of the chilled man. "I can feel where ya hit yer head. Bleedin' stopped."
"Rather a m…miracle, at that," Ezra noted quietly through an extended shiver.
"Which?" Nettie asked as she lifted the man on the floor forward to remove the coat.
"Both, Ah d…dare say."
"All right. Let's finish gettin' ya both out o' these wet clothes. Casey, help Vin," the woman in charge said as she saw Casey move quickly back into the room. She looked over to Vin. "Only move enough to help Casey do what she's gotta do. Come on," she said to Ezra as she began unbuttoning his vest. He swatted her hands away.
"What p…precisely has evah occurred d…during our assoc'ashun that h…has evah led you to b…b'lieve that Ah w…would r…r'move mah h…hab…habber…habberdash'ry in front of a w…woman?"
Nettie looked at Ezra carefully, thoughtfully, then answered, "Ever?" Casey and Vin both laughed. Ezra hemmed and hawed and came up with no reply. "Casey's brought you both a change o' clothes. I'd put up a blanket so you could both change on your own, but I am telling you, with Vin's back and your balance, neither of ya will git very far. Don't worry none on yer delicate sensibilities." Ezra started to protest. "No! Jest start with yer vest and the buttons on yer shirt and yer fancy pants." Ezra did just that, as he was just that damned cold and uncomfortable and altogether too weak to fight any order from this woman. "Good. I'll hold up a blanket while you rid yerself of that wet skin and change into this clothes, if you promise to stay on the floor while you do it and ask fer help if ya need it."
"Yes, ma'am," Ezra answered obediently.
"All right. Vin, Casey's a strong girl and she's seen the likes o' you helpin' fellas out on the range. Casey, remember what I told ya."
"Yes, Aunt Nettie."
Vin looked up at Casey and whispered, "What's she … "
Casey interrupted him. "You don't wanna know."
Within the next fifteen minutes, both men were looked after, cleaned and mended and snuggled in warm, dry clothes before the fire. Vin sat in the well-padded old chair that he'd picked up for Nettie, the one that he'd found set out for trash. He picked it up, brought it to Abigail Merton to be looked over and get cleaned up, and have the long rip in the back repaired, and gifted it to the old woman one early autumn day last year. Nettie's old body was grateful for the comfort, as was Vin's young, damaged one today.
The "bed" on the floor that Nettie made up for him had Ezra asleep almost immediately, little good would it do him as the rancher or her niece would be waking Ezra for questioning every hour for the next few, and every couple of hours through the night. Casey sat at the dining room table darning some clothes that needed it and could be done still in the light that currently burned in the room. She would have to stop soon, though, as the table would be taken over by food for suppertime.
It was into this peaceful, quiet scene, with Nettie making some noise with a pot and utensils, and the setting of the table with plates, that a knock at the door was heard, followed by the click of the hammers of both Vin's mare's leg and Ezra's Derringer, followed quickly by, "It's Chris Larabee." Both guns remained in their current positions, pointed at the door by both lawmen, until Nettie looked through the window, recognized the tall blond as a silhouette against the surprisingly lighter night sky, and let the man in. Chris entered, followed by Buck Wilmington.
"Ladies," Buck said as he kissed first Nettie on the cheek and then Casey on the back of her hand. Chris tipped the brim of his hat to both women before removing it at the door. Little wetness fell from it.
"Thought we might still be getting a drizzle," the rancher said.
"Stopped raining about ten minutes out," Chris said. "We didn't get near this much rain in Four Corners.
"That's good," Vin said. Ezra had put his little gun away and snuggled back into his blankets.
"What happened?" the leader of The Magnificent Seven asked.
"Got caught in a downpour. Peso slipped in the mud, so did Ezra."
"You hurt?"
"Yeah."
"He just needs rest. He'll be fine," Nettie said as he handed each of the new arrivals a cup of coffee.
"Thanks, Nettie. What about him?" Buck asked.
"Mild concussion, hit his head when he fell." Chris and Buck both laughed. "You men have a peculiar idea 'bout what's funny."
"Ezra's always gettin' hit in the head," Buck defended the two men, and apparently Vin as well.
"That may be so, but for a man who has physical concerns about headaches and other stuff, he has a distinct desire to make sure his friends are taken care of before he gives in to his own hurts. You all bein' the beneficiaries of his worry, I'd think you'd both be nicer about it and work harder to prevent it."
Chris nodded. "You got a point, Nettie."
"You boys get comfortable. Casey, stoke that fire some."
"I'll get it," Buck said. He walked over, took care of the fire, then kneeled beside Ezra, placing his hand on the gambler's forehead.
"Daddy," he said. Buck pulled his hand away as though it was on fire.
"Daddy?" he asked with a frown. He stood up, picked up his mug from the mantle, and took a chair at the table.
"He's been sleepin' heavy, thinkin' on his daddy for some reason," Casey said.
"Nettie called him Mr. Standish," Vin said.
"Don't normally," she admitted as she stirred the stew and looked down at the sleeping Southerner.
"He told me once that 'Mr. Standish' was his papa's name, didn't really feel comfortable bein' called it when the name belonged to his daddy," Vin explained.
"I used to call him Standish all the time," Chris said, looking perplexed.
"Standish ain't Mister Standish," Nettie explained. "A boy should be able to accept his daddy's name."
"He'll come around," Chris said.
"He's a grown man. Should o' come around by now," Nettie said.
"Things're different now," Buck said. Nettie watched the three lawmen watching the fourth. She smiled and marveled at how the good lord brought her more sons so late in life.
"Supper's on. Go get 'im up," Nettie ordered.
The two newcomers stood up to follow the order. Vin stood as well, caught Nettie's warning glare, and took a seat at the table. They all sat at the table, Nettie Wells and the girl who was more daughter than niece, four lawmen who were as much brothers as friends and comrades, good food and conversation and laughter flowed, and love glowed along with the fire in the hearth and the stove, the candles and finally, the moon, a winter's glow as it worked to push the storm aside.
The End.